You wrote of our love, forever carved out in stone. But what of
our boys and their happy home? You were their daddy, you could
do no wrong, now they see you a coward where they once saw you strong.

I believed you to be a man of your word, so many promises now broken
where better left unheard, remember your promise "you'll never
raise them alone"? just a fool to believe you had carved
that in stone.

Sitting here now though its your voice that I hear, and its your face
I still see beneath falling tears.

So many questions unanswered, no reasons just why? What was so
wrong that you could no longer try?

Now here we are the boys and I, together yet each so alone,
standing next to what's left of their daddy so dear, just your
name carved out in stone.

=0=

Nobbylocks

david aaron

polish

11-years old

I'm in a playground with other boys

crying and crying

at the wall

being squeezed out of a tube

I see myself coming out

dec. 24th, 1994

things I cannot explain

beat the limits right out of me

I don't care

stevie wonder embraced me

held both of my arms and whispered tenderly to me

quiet and beautiful

edge of a canyon

a sunrise at 5pm

completely surrounded by fifty elk

drinking loose earl grey tea

gasoline

scattered symbols, coloured

blood

4

set

isolated thought

noise

the smack of a hand

rushing trains

hazy drawing reality

stuck in my head

I see a room from two opposite views

candles test my fear

sitting on the floor of my closet

stuff falling on me

sinking to the bottom

waiting for someone to hear me

to come and help me

woke up mom

stuff on the porch

not laid down

before I was born

quiet, but effective

feeling nothing

darkness

silence

=0=

Reversing the Law of Diminishing Returns

Bob G. Vanderwest

In joining, a man and woman

Remake Adam---Eve

Returning a rib---

With interest.

=0=

Stereotype

Lisa M. Pilgrim

This is just a stereotypical poem,

Written about a stereotypical girl,

She is the weird one,

The poet,

Her soul is on paper,

This is just a stereotypical poem,

About a stereotypical girl,

Her heart is in her pen,

She screams out to the world,

Her quiet keystrokes are her song,

She confides in her notebook,

Spilling out her crazy mind at three-o-clock in the morn,

She doesnít even have to think,

For her head is so poetic in itself.

She gets lost in her world,

Listening to her poetic music,

This is just a stereotypical poem,

Written by a stereotypical girl.

=0=

THE ONE
kwakou butcher

Lyrical wiz kid, known to only those he sees as his brethren. Power
passed down through a long bloodline and multiplied through the tests
faced by each generation during these unending trying times. Short
lived public fame, only being able to charge 15 minutes to his name
yet, a life long legacy surpasses the ages through his ghetto remains.
New school and old he has passed through both time frames and still
maintains his truths with out shame. Faithful to all that he's got,
for life is but a physical loan to be repaid only through spiritual
repentance. A relentless struggle we endure, only to receive the gift
of being recycled back into a higher level of stress. Still as a mind
above others he retains his composure and advances his gain.
Multiplying his mental in order to gain a better understanding of
self. In order to lead a life beneficial to others and weakening to
the struggle faced by so many and conquered by none. He is the one....

=0=

SUNK BY BRIBERY
Prince Odimegwu Onwumere

In the church

In the police

In the offices, bribery is a culture

In the general ramification

Bribe is prevalent universally

Vastly it's accepted with

Gross conduct, no man thinks

little salary makes vast wealth

In our days any more. No man wants to

Be called "the bad man" but we're all

Spoilt in how we sell ourselves; many

ignorants cast vote which ought to be

Weighed than counting.

Man shall one day sell this world

As the son of man was sold.

ALAS! Pity to man who dwell with

Good an bad, than one; HYPOCRITES!

=0=

The Soul Of The Deejay

Jonas Valonis

I was pushed into hell of drums

So far my soul can't live without drums.

When I feel it with my fingertip,

That all I need to do is to click.

The strategy of movement my music is.

And it goes a little something like this!

Sound samples feat. perfect ear

Complicated and mixed right here.

The music in me melts my body.

Flash-light through all night party.

Can you face my soul music?

On the dance-floor, what's inside me, start to use it.

=0=

Sometimes Natures Beauty frees from life's concerns

Mind is taken away as the Horizon Slowly Burns

Feelings awakened by the Vista Sight

In a flood of colors Day melts to Night

Darkness falls engulfing the sky

Feeling alive but about to die

Embrace the cold dark hand of Death

Live every moment as if last breath

Daniel Conover

=0=

Can't Get Free
Cory Quirino

Lying down in the middle of the field watching the beautiful colors of
the sky pass me by and by. The sun peaks though the clouds every
now and then. The grass feels so good and the ground is so soft.
A sheet of dew cover the land giving off the smell of morning mist
like when you first take that first step out into nature.

A gust of wind comes and blows the leaves around. The small
little creatures that live in the ground come up to the surface and
crawl all over my body. Then slowly they start to eat away at
me. I canít get free. And now the colors have changed
and things just aint the same.

The colors go dark and the clouds turn black. The smell of death
and fear and pain come about. The sun is completely gone.
Nature is bringing along a great storm. Thing just aint the way
they seem anymore. Everybody has left me. Now I am all
alone in the field and I still canít get free.

It starts to rain. I get all wet and start to sink. I sink
into the ground. Iím becoming part of the earth. It
pulls me in closer and closer. Deeper and deeper I go. The
light gets smaller and smaller. Iím in too far, I canít get
free.

The creatures dig into me. They eat out my brain. They eat
out my heart. I am no more. Itís too much that I have to
give up. They control everything. They make me do things I
donít want to do. They make me feel what I donít want to
feel. They make me see, touch, and hear that which I have no
desire. I have no more emotions to myself and I still canít
get free.

It hurts so much. There is so much pain. I canít stand
it anymore. I scratch at all I can with all my strength.
But it is useless. There is no more hope for me. Iím not
going to make it no more. Iím not free.